In which kermode picks up a hustler
I'm leaving OP's on Friday night and this guy stops me. "Can I get a ride to Club Indy?" he asks.
He's alright looking. Tall, skinny, fucked up hair. You know, not my type at all. You'd probably have loved him. So what the hell, I figure I can take him, so I say "Uh, sure, but I don't' know where it is, so you'll have to give me directions." Okay, so I lie. I've never been there, but I know where it is. Still, random guy doesn't need to know that. So, we climb into the van from the back door (neither front door opens from the outside now). I climb into the driver's seat and he climbs into the front passenger's seat. I tell him that the passenger door doesn't open (again, I lie, but the problem is that if you open it from the inside, it doesn't close without a bunch of work, so it's the same thing). He seems nervous.
As we start along 16th street towards Meridian, he says "So, I hate to do this, but is there any way you could hook me up with some food."
"Oh...that's what this is. Please don't kill me," I think. I say, "Uh...sure...where do you want to go?"
He says that the Taco Bell on Meridian is open (it's midnightish), so we head that way. On the way there, he starts with questions. "Your hands are soft (after we shook hands). What do you do for a living?"
"I'm in publishing. It's complicated what I do..."
"Oh, cool, so do you have a college degree? Did you go to IU? I used to DJ at Bullwinkle's (the gay bar in Bloomington). I got busted selling Ecstasy down there, and I just got out of jail. I've never seen you around here."
"Yeah. Uh, IUPUI. Huh..." (oh please oh please don't have a knife...I bet I could kill you if I had to...you're not wearing a seatbelt. I could slam on the brakes and then...I've seen movies...it'll be fine...)
At the drive-in at Taco Bell: "So...is there anything I can do for you to make some money? I really feel bad for lying to you about what I needed... I can trim your hedges or..."
"Oh. Uh, I live in an apartment, so I don't really do yard work type stuff..." (Another lie, but what the hell...)
"Well, I could give you a massage or...you know...whatever..."
"Uh...nah, I'm good." I have a sudden urge to be nice(r). "Tell you what, I'll buy dinner, and you can have the change." I have a $20 (Well, I have 3 of them, but I'm hoping he doesn't see that), so I'm going to be giving him like $15. He doesn't realize this yet.
The taco bell people take forever to answer the little drive through thing. He asks for a large pepsi and two burritos with extra onions. So yeah...you're a homeless hustler *and* your breath's gonna smell like onions...oh baby. As I hand him the cash (about $15), he starts to freak. "Wow, you're so awesome! That's so great! I can't believe this. It was destiny that we meet tonight!" Awww.
As we pull away from the window, I ask, "So...am I still taking you to Club Indy?"
"Well, not if I don't have to work for this..." Classic. I try very hard not to laugh, because I'm not sure if that was supposed to be a joke or not.
"So, what am I doing with you now? Do you want me to drop you back off at OP's?"
"Well, do you want to hang out?"
So...a freebie? "Nah, I'm good. I think I'm going to head home."
"Oh. (sounds disappointed) Well, I guess OP's is fine then."
As we drive back to the bar so I can drop him off, it suddenly occurs to me that I'm going to drop off a hustler in front of OP's, where it's entirely possible that one or more of my friends will see me dropping off a hustler. So that's neat.
I drop him off without further incident. He talks all the way back about how happier he is now that he's poor because then he really appreciates even when someone gives him a dollar. I think, "You're this excited about $15...what do you charge for a hummer? A dollar? You're selling yourself short." I say, "Yeah, uh huh. Cool."
I drop him off, nobody I recognize is outside, and I drive off to the 501 to see if anyone I know will want to hear this story of my bizarre life. When I tell Ian on the phone at home, he freaks and thinks I'm lucky to be alive. I probably am. But I got a hell of a story.
He's alright looking. Tall, skinny, fucked up hair. You know, not my type at all. You'd probably have loved him. So what the hell, I figure I can take him, so I say "Uh, sure, but I don't' know where it is, so you'll have to give me directions." Okay, so I lie. I've never been there, but I know where it is. Still, random guy doesn't need to know that. So, we climb into the van from the back door (neither front door opens from the outside now). I climb into the driver's seat and he climbs into the front passenger's seat. I tell him that the passenger door doesn't open (again, I lie, but the problem is that if you open it from the inside, it doesn't close without a bunch of work, so it's the same thing). He seems nervous.
As we start along 16th street towards Meridian, he says "So, I hate to do this, but is there any way you could hook me up with some food."
"Oh...that's what this is. Please don't kill me," I think. I say, "Uh...sure...where do you want to go?"
He says that the Taco Bell on Meridian is open (it's midnightish), so we head that way. On the way there, he starts with questions. "Your hands are soft (after we shook hands). What do you do for a living?"
"I'm in publishing. It's complicated what I do..."
"Oh, cool, so do you have a college degree? Did you go to IU? I used to DJ at Bullwinkle's (the gay bar in Bloomington). I got busted selling Ecstasy down there, and I just got out of jail. I've never seen you around here."
"Yeah. Uh, IUPUI. Huh..." (oh please oh please don't have a knife...I bet I could kill you if I had to...you're not wearing a seatbelt. I could slam on the brakes and then...I've seen movies...it'll be fine...)
At the drive-in at Taco Bell: "So...is there anything I can do for you to make some money? I really feel bad for lying to you about what I needed... I can trim your hedges or..."
"Oh. Uh, I live in an apartment, so I don't really do yard work type stuff..." (Another lie, but what the hell...)
"Well, I could give you a massage or...you know...whatever..."
"Uh...nah, I'm good." I have a sudden urge to be nice(r). "Tell you what, I'll buy dinner, and you can have the change." I have a $20 (Well, I have 3 of them, but I'm hoping he doesn't see that), so I'm going to be giving him like $15. He doesn't realize this yet.
The taco bell people take forever to answer the little drive through thing. He asks for a large pepsi and two burritos with extra onions. So yeah...you're a homeless hustler *and* your breath's gonna smell like onions...oh baby. As I hand him the cash (about $15), he starts to freak. "Wow, you're so awesome! That's so great! I can't believe this. It was destiny that we meet tonight!" Awww.
As we pull away from the window, I ask, "So...am I still taking you to Club Indy?"
"Well, not if I don't have to work for this..." Classic. I try very hard not to laugh, because I'm not sure if that was supposed to be a joke or not.
"So, what am I doing with you now? Do you want me to drop you back off at OP's?"
"Well, do you want to hang out?"
So...a freebie? "Nah, I'm good. I think I'm going to head home."
"Oh. (sounds disappointed) Well, I guess OP's is fine then."
As we drive back to the bar so I can drop him off, it suddenly occurs to me that I'm going to drop off a hustler in front of OP's, where it's entirely possible that one or more of my friends will see me dropping off a hustler. So that's neat.
I drop him off without further incident. He talks all the way back about how happier he is now that he's poor because then he really appreciates even when someone gives him a dollar. I think, "You're this excited about $15...what do you charge for a hummer? A dollar? You're selling yourself short." I say, "Yeah, uh huh. Cool."
I drop him off, nobody I recognize is outside, and I drive off to the 501 to see if anyone I know will want to hear this story of my bizarre life. When I tell Ian on the phone at home, he freaks and thinks I'm lucky to be alive. I probably am. But I got a hell of a story.